Chapter 55: The Assassin Problem - Part 3 (Sabotage)
The Novigrad outpost groaned.
I'd just arrived via teleportation—the familiar disorientation settling as reality reassembled around me—when the sound registered. Not the normal creaking of old timber. Something deeper. Something wrong.
[DANGER SENSE: CRITICAL ALERT]
[Threat Source: STRUCTURAL]
[Classification: Imminent collapse]
[Location: Primary support beam (overhead)]
"EVACUATE!" My voice carried through the building with trained projection. "NOW! EVERYONE OUT!"
Viktor's drilling paid off in that moment. The four members stationed in Novigrad didn't question, didn't hesitate, didn't waste precious seconds asking why. They moved—dropping whatever they held, abandoning tasks mid-completion, flowing toward the exits we'd designated during monthly practice sessions.
Helena was closest to the front door. She went through it at a sprint, messenger scrolls scattering from her hands. Marcus and Jorin followed within heartbeats, their combat training translating into explosive acceleration when survival demanded it.
Viktor came last, having paused to verify everyone else was clear—proper leadership, ensuring his people escaped before himself.
I Shadow Stepped out the back entrance.
[ENERGY: 1,800/2,000]
The building shuddered behind me. Through the alley, through the secondary exit I'd insisted on despite complaints about cost, emerging into the canal-side courtyard just as the sound of splintering wood erupted from within.
The main support beam didn't fail cleanly. It twisted, groaned, and finally surrendered under stresses it should have withstood for another century. The second floor buckled inward. The third floor—my planning room when I visited—tilted at an angle that promised collapse within hours.
But the building didn't fully fall. The damage was catastrophic but contained, the structure compromised rather than destroyed.
"Everyone accounted for?" I called.
Viktor did a rapid headcount. "All four plus you. Nobody inside when it went."
"Casualties?"
"None." He turned to look at the damaged building, his expression mixing relief with controlled fury. "That was fifteen seconds from full collapse. If we hadn't drilled..."
"We drilled. That's what matters."
City investigators arrived within the hour—Novigrad's building authority, accustomed to structural failures in a city that grew faster than its infrastructure could support.
Their initial assessment: "Age-related decay. The support beam was probably compromised years ago, finally gave way. These older warehouses..."
I cut them off. "Examine the beam itself. Not the break point. The material around it."
The lead investigator—a tired woman named Agatha who'd clearly seen too many building collapses to find this one particularly interesting—gave me a skeptical look. But she sent workers to retrieve the broken beam section from the rubble.
What they found changed her attitude.
"Acid scoring," she said, examining the wood under magnification. "Someone applied corrosive agent to the beam's core. Systematically, over time—the damage pattern suggests multiple applications over... maybe three weeks? The beam looked sound from outside but was hollow inside."
"Sabotage."
"Professional sabotage." Her voice had lost its boredom. "This isn't angry tenant or business rival. This is expensive alchemical work, careful application, timed to fail during peak occupancy. Someone wanted people dead."
"Someone wanted me dead. Again."
Viktor requested copies of Agatha's findings. She agreed—attempted murder by structural collapse was serious enough to warrant guild involvement in investigation, especially when the guild owned the building.
I examined the acid-scored beam section in the courtyard, away from the investigators.
[RESOURCE SCAN: SABOTAGE EVIDENCE]
[Substance: Concentrated vitriolic acid (alchemical grade)]
[Source: Industrial production (not hedge-alchemist quality)]
[Application Method: Injection via drill points (subsequently concealed)]
[Expertise Required: HIGH (chemical and structural knowledge)]
[Cost Estimate: 15-20 crowns for materials alone]
[Note: Substance requires import licenses—traceable through trade records]
"This wasn't cheap," I told Viktor, once we were alone. "Industrial-grade acid, professional application, three weeks of careful work. Whoever did this had access to the building multiple times, knew exactly where to strike, and had resources for expensive materials."
"The visitor logs show nothing unusual. Regular clients, message couriers, supply deliveries." Viktor had already reviewed the records. "If someone infiltrated, they did it through normal channels."
"Or they had inside help."
The suggestion hung in the air. Neither of us wanted to believe it, but the alternative—an infiltrator skilled enough to access our building repeatedly without detection—was almost worse.
"I'll re-screen everyone with Novigrad access," Viktor said finally. "Backgrounds, recent behavior, financial irregularities. If someone's been turned..."
"Be discrete. If there is a traitor, alerting them helps no one."
That evening, I gathered leadership via message crystal—Viktor in person, Mira and Tom from Oxenfurt, Brennan from Vizima.
"Three attempts," I said, spreading my notes across the salvaged planning table we'd set up in Viktor's temporary quarters. "Poison, ambush, sabotage. Each method different. Each method professional. Each method expensive."
"Single enemy or multiple?" Tom's voice crackled through the crystal.
"That's what we need to determine." I pointed to the first entry. "Poison: Widow's Tears, applied to my specific meal. Required inside access or skilled infiltrator. Cost: minimal materials, high expertise."
Second entry. "Ambush: Six mercenaries, coordinated attack, quality equipment. Red Falcon company involvement confirmed. Cost: one hundred twenty crowns minimum, based on standard rates."
Third entry. "Sabotage: Industrial acid, three weeks of preparation, structural engineering knowledge. Cost: twenty crowns materials plus skilled labor."
"Total investment over two hundred crowns," Mira calculated. "Plus time, planning, reconnaissance. This isn't casual revenge—this is serious commitment."
"The methods don't overlap," Tom observed. "Poison suggests someone with guild access. Mercenary ambush suggests someone with underworld connections. Sabotage suggests someone with technical expertise and patience. Either we're facing three separate enemies, or one very capable enemy using diversified approach."
"I think it's one source with multiple contractors." I arranged the evidence in timeline. "The poison failed and they immediately shifted to mercenary attack—too fast for separate enemies to have coordinated. When the ambush failed, they switched to sabotage—slower approach, avoiding patterns we'd prepared for."
"Who has resources for this kind of campaign?"
The question had been grinding at me since the first attempt.
"Major rival organizations—mercenary companies, thieves guilds, anyone who's lost business to our growth. Nobles we've embarrassed—Baron Halsten's agreement prevents direct action, but he might be funding others. Or..." I paused, considering the possibility I'd been avoiding. "Or someone with entirely different motivation. Political, religious, personal reasons we haven't identified yet."
"That's too broad," Viktor said. "We need to narrow suspects."
"Then we investigate systematically. Tom, I want deep intelligence on the Red Falcon company—funding sources, leadership connections, recent large payments. Mira, review our financial records for any unusual patterns that might indicate internal compromise. Viktor, re-screen Novigrad personnel with particular attention to recent behavior changes."
"And you?" Mira asked.
"I'll follow the acid. Industrial alchemical supplies require licenses—someone purchased enough material for this sabotage. Trade records exist. I'll find them."
That Night
The damaged outpost stood silent in moonlight, its wounded structure casting crooked shadows across the canal.
I sat on the courtyard wall, reviewing the three assassination attempts in my mind. The enemy was sophisticated—wealthy enough for expensive methods, connected enough for diverse contractors, patient enough for multi-week preparation.
"They're learning from each failure. Poison was detectable. Ambush was survivable. Sabotage was preventable through drills. What will the fourth attempt look like?"
The thought was uncomfortable. Eventually, an enemy this capable would find an approach that worked. Defense alone couldn't protect forever—the attacker only needed to succeed once, while I needed to survive every time.
"Time to stop playing defense."
The decision crystallized with unusual clarity. I'd been reacting—implementing security, surviving attempts, investigating after the fact. That needed to change.
Identifying and neutralizing the source was no longer optional. It was survival.
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